over it. I’m just...I dunno. I don’t know what to think.”
“It’s okay.” Beth’s hand squeezed his tightly. “You’ve all been through a lot. I’m going to be here,
and I’ll keep a close eye on things from now on. This place had always been a hot-bed of energy. I
guess I hadn’t realised just how much, because...well, usually ‘cause I’m pretty drunk when I come in
here.” She winked at him.
Ryan smiled weakly.
“Seriously, though,” Beth said. “Sometimes bad things happen in life, and it’s all part of existence.
There are horrible things out there, and it’s crap that we have to experience them. However, it’s
important not to let it drag you down. I know it’s a cliché, but when they say count your blessings, it
really does help to do so. You’re all alive, you all made it through. With the exception of Sammy, who
unfortunately got a broken arm, but he’ll pull through. You’re all very strong people. Sometimes...”
She paused, breathing in. Her hand left Ryan’s, and made it up to his shoulder, rubbing gently. Heat
seemed to radiate in from her hand. “Sometimes,” she said, “bad things can make us appreciate the
good things in life. Know what I mean?”
A calming heat warmed Ryan’s skin. He nodded. “Yeah, I know what you’re saying.”
“Some of us have to see things we don’t want to see,” Beth said. “Sometimes it’s inescapable. But,
eventually, the memory of it fades, and we can get by without remembering. It’s fresh in your mind
now, but it will fade.”
“I hope so.”
“It will.” Beth smiled at him, a smile that told him she believed he’d be okay. “If you do find
you’re struggling, though, just come and find me. My door is always open to you.”
“Thanks, Beth.” Ryan managed to smile back. “You’ve...well, you’ve been great.”
“No probs.” Her smile became shy, and she hopped down from her stool. “Well, I have to get going.
I’m meeting some friends in the park. They’re doing poi. Wanna come?”
“Nah, thanks.” Ryan stood, picking up their empty glasses. “I think we’re opening today, so there’s
still a lot of cleaning to do.”
Beth nodded. “Sure thing. Well, when we’re done, maybe we’ll come back in here for a drink.”
“That’d be good. I think we owe you a few pints, at the very least.” After placing the glasses in the
glass washer, Ryan went to the door, unlocking it so Beth could leave.
“Beth...thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She stepped through the door, smiling over her shoulder. “See you later.”
Chapter Twenty-three
After eleven, Ryan went back upstairs. He stopped in on Matt in his kitchen, who was busy getting
everything cooked. Ryan noticed Matt was a little distracted, and decided to leave him be. He seemed
to be making a desert, which was strange, as the pub menu rarely had deserts.
On the second floor, Ryan went into the domestic kitchen. He disposed of his untouched coffee, and
set the kettle to boil anew. It felt calm in here, and not stuffy, which was a blessed relief. All the
windows were open, as it was a muggy day, and the breeze from outside blew in, fresh and sweet.
Ryan could hear the odd footfall on floorboards above, but he felt almost certain that was Fizz.
Nothing seemed to feel...creepy any more.
What a relief.
No one was awake though, besides Fizz and Matt. If the pub was going to open, they only had about
an hour to do so on time. As the kettle boiled, Ryan strolled out to the hall. He flicked a wary glance
left, at the pigeon loft. The door was shut; bolted and locked, with an official notice on it from the gas
board, deeming it safe, but still under further inspection.
Ryan hoped the damn place stayed shut. He tore his eyes away, and walked up the three steps, past
the bathroom – which smelt warm and freshly scented after Fizz’s shower – toward the living room.
Since being discharged from hospital, and having the pigeon loft shut, Ginger had insisted that Fizz
have his bedroom. Last night, Fizz had slept in Ginger’s room, and Ginger had slept in the living
room.
All while Ryan had slept alone in his double bed. It seemed like such a waste. The living room was
right next to his bedroom, and Ryan had stared at the wall for much of the night, wondering if Ginger
was asleep, or awake.
Peeping his head in the living room, he looked to the couch. The curtains were drawn, but sunlight
found its way in. Ginger was sprawled on the couch, one arm flung out, red hair all a mess and
hanging over the armrest. He wore a white vest, and his pyjama bottoms were visible, as he’d kicked
away the covers in his sleep. He snored quietly, from being in the likely uncomfortable position.
Ryan wasn’t sure what to do. He was less afraid of waking Ginger than he was of waking Pete, but
if Ginger needed the sleep, maybe he should leave him be? They’d just have to open the pub late, if at
all. Sighing to himself, Ryan left the room. This was Ginger’s first night home since leaving the
hospital, and a small part of Ryan worried that he might not wake at all.
In the kitchen once again, Ryan made a new cafetiere of fresh coffee. While it brewed, he turned on
the TV and tuned into a morning chat show. He just needed some bland and inoffensive chatter to
wash over him, make him stop thinking.
* * *
Using a rolling pin, Matt pounded the crap out of a packet of biscuits. It was a good way to release
some pent up frustration. He’d planned to make banoffie pie. It was Sammy’s favourite, or it was last
Matt knew of it. He hoped it still was. If he hurried, it would be ready in time for when Sammy came
back this afternoon.
His stereo played in the background. Matt couldn’t bear to listen to the radio right now, it seemed
too jolly, too inane. He’d forgone his usual loud black metal though, and picked out a CD of slower,
chilled-out music.
Biscuits thoroughly crushed, Matt threw down his pin, and set to shaking out the biscuit crumbs
into a dish. He’d already made the cake mixture from scratch, using bananas he’d bought that
morning, and melting the toffee fudge he’d bought especially from the sweet shop. He’d gone all out
with the double cream as well. Matt wasn’t usually into making deserts, as he didn’t have a sweet
tooth, but today, he felt a real passion for it.
This was going to be the best banoffie pie ever.
* * *
Tomorrow night, the text read. Meet me at Pavilion gate after your shift. I’m taking you to the pier
;p x
The winking face and kiss at the end of the text were enough to make Fizz almost pass out from
happiness. He simply couldn’t recall ever feeling like this, like he was walking on air, or not so much
walking as....soaring. Soaring with happy.
The pier. With Ash, like a date. Fizz waited for the anxiety to hit him, but...nothing. Small
butterflies in his stomach, yet they weren’t quite the same. He didn’t even mind feeling them, they
were so light. His heart thudded in anticipation of seeing Ash again. One whole day! How could he
possibly wait that long?
* * *
Pressing down on the plunger, the aromatic scent of coffee wafted up, hitting Ryan’s nose. Nothing
could beat fresh coffee in the morning. He poured some of the hot liquid into his favourite
Transformers mug.
Footsteps creaked along the hall, and Ryan heard the bathroom door shut. He wondered who that
was. Ginger, maybe? If it had been Fizz or Pete, surely he would have heard them coming down the
stairs first? Well, he’d find out soon enough. Ryan heaped two spoonful’s of sugar into his mug, then
added milk. He stirred, watching the coffee swirl from darkest brown to golden. The scent was rich,